The Diamonds (9 page)

“Think about it,” Clarissa instructed, pulling us out of our huddle. “Fast. The jury is back.”

As expected, the jury found Erin and Mark guilty of Cheating in the First Degree and of Being Skanky Exhibitionists Who Don't Know How to Properly Administer Hickeys.

“This is ridiculous,” Jenny Murphy said, loudly enough for everyone to hear.

Clarissa shot her a death glare.

“That's all,” said Jake Snider (juror no. 1), taking his seat. He passed the verdict over to Clarissa, who looked at me eagerly.

I cleared my throat. It was Now or Never. “On behalf of the court,” I said, trying to invoke even the slightest bit of Clarissa's authority, “the Diamonds sentence Mark Durango and Erin O'Hara to no PDA on or around the Bennington School property. Mark and Erin are no longer allowed to be within five feet of one another at any time.” I glanced at Clarissa for help. She did nothing except widen her eyes. It felt like a challenge. Nothing was going to change the fact that, for Rosie, her boyfriend and her best friend had betrayed her trust. I knew that much from experience. But I had the power to make her life a little easier, didn't I? What good was having that power without using it?

“In addition, Erin and Mark are required to wear clothing that exposes their necks for the next two months. If either is seen with a hickey, or a bruise that resembles a hickey, they will be required to do community service with Ms. Romano's special education class at the Bennington Cemetery on Saturdays. Erin and Mark are no longer allowed to eat lunch in Cafeteria B, and any student seen fraternizing with either individual will hereby be banished from Cafeteria B as well.”

I reached over, grabbed Clarissa's gavel, and slammed it down as hard as I could. The sound was deafening. “Case closed,” I said.

“That was amazing,” Clarissa told me. We were in her car, driving toward my house. My hands were still shaking from the trial. “You were so in control.”

“Really?”

She nodded, turning up the radio. “I was so impressed. I didn't think you had it in you.”

I understood where she was coming from. I'd even surprised myself.

I thought about Erin and Mark and how the few words I'd uttered would, most likely, change the course of their entire year. It both scared and exhilarated me. Outside, the sky was darkening into night. We sped down Willis Avenue, the funky beats of MIKA blasting from the speakers.

“Doesn't it feel good? To lay down the law and know that whatever you say, people will follow it?”

“Yeah,” I said. After this, there was no going back. I was addicted. I would stay part of the Diamond Court forever. “It does.”

In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district wherein the crime shall have been committed … and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation …

—The Sixth Amendment
to the United States Constitution

On the second Friday of every month, all the Bennington seniors with social lives attend the
Sound of Music
sing-along at the Roosevelt Multiplex, an artsy cinema about twenty minutes away from my house.

To this day, I'm still not sure how the tradition got started or why the sing-along was an exclusively “senior” event. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that it was, you know, a
Sound of Music
sing-along. What underclassmen wanted to explain to their parents why they needed to be dropped off at the movies wearing an outfit fashioned out of living room drapes?

I met up with Clarissa three hours before the movie
started to coordinate our outfits. I was going as the virginal nun-in-training (also known as a nunette), Maria, who taught the Von Trapp children the importance of sunshine, laughter, and singing in harmony. Clarissa was going as Elsa Schraeder, the vampy sexpot who tried to steal the Captain away from Maria and send the children away to boarding school (where—I'll say it—they probably belonged).

“So, how are you holding up?” Clarissa asked, standing in front of her mirror and adjusting her boobs so that they stretched the front of her dress to full capacity. (Clarissa didn't exactly have a sense of the time period, if you asked me.)

I looked at her blankly. I was sitting on the edge of her bed.

“With
Jed
,” she clarified.

“I still miss him,” I said, falling back and resting my head on her pillow. “But more the
idea
of him than anything else.”

“I know what you mean,” Clarissa said. “I was the same way right after I broke up with Anderson. It gets better, I promise.”

I stared into the eyes of my very best friend (for better or for worse, that's what Clarissa was, how much she meant to me) and struggled with a response. Everything inside me screamed to tell her about my trip to Anderson's house and my confused feelings for him, no matter how upset she would be.

Then I heard it: “Laaaaadieeeesss,” said the voice, high and chirpy. “The party has arrived!” Priya had
suddenly appeared outside Clarissa's bedroom door, a six-pack of Coronas in one hand and a bottle opener in the other. I'd almost forgotten she was coming. “Oh, and Lili's here too.”

“Very funny,” Lili said, brushing past Priya and making her way inside. She was dressed as Liesel, I think, the eldest Von Trapp daughter, who fell in love with a Nazi but realized at the last minute that Nazis were totally lame.

“Who are
you
supposed to be?” Clarissa asked Priya, who was clad in a slinky black number that stopped in the middle of her thighs.

“I'm a nun,” she said, lifting one of the bottles in her hand. (Clarissa's parents were out for the night, which was why we'd chosen her house to pregame.) “You really can't tell?” Priya turned to face Clarissa's mirror. “Oh,” she said,
“duh.”
She reached down, grabbed a silver cross, and held it up to her chest. “How about now?”

“Oh,” Clarissa said.
“Now
I see it. Totally. A nun.” She looked at me and laughed. “Don't you, Marni?”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Totally.”

Priya opened her beer and took a swig. “Whatever, Marni. Let's see who goes home alone tonight and who doesn't.” She eyed my costume as though it were a garbage bag. “Then we'll talk.”

“That's it!” Clarissa jumped up from her bed and grabbed my wrist. “We'll find you a guy tonight. Someone to take your mind off Jed.”

I already have someone to take my mind off Jed. You dated him for almost a year
.

“That's such a good idea!” said Lili.

“Brilliant,” said Priya, who was busily squeezing fresh lime into her Corona and drinking up the fizz as it overflowed. “Brilliant.”

Clarissa grabbed her makeup case. “Lili, hand me my brush.”

“It's a fashion emergency! Code Blue! I mean, Red!” shouted Priya, swishing beer on her dress as she shimmied. “Aw, shit.”

“You guys, I look
fine
,” I said. I was no longer some clueless middle school transfer student in need of a makeover. I had spent
two
whole
hours
getting ready, What was the deal?

“Yes, you do,” said Clarissa, pulling out a compact with twenty different-colored eye shadows. “But you don't have a boyfriend anymore. It's a whole new world out there,” she said
(Aladdin
,1992), “and starting tonight, you are officially on the prowl.”

About an hour—and the rest of the Coronas—later, we all piled into Clarissa's Audi. I was the designated driver. Staring into the rearview mirror, I didn't think I looked
that
different. Sure, I was blushing, but that was because of the MAC blush; and sure, I was smiling, but that was thanks to the four layers of lipstick; and
yes
, my eyes were giving off an innocent, doelike vibe, but that was courtesy of Clarissa's shading
expertise and not anything particularly new or interesting about
me
.

“Can we listen to something less annoying?” Clarissa whined, flicking off the radio. She was next to me in the passenger seat. I stared at her profile. Even with all the makeup in the world, I would never look like her.

“It's your car,” I said. “We can listen to whatever you want.”

“I love music,” Priya shouted. “Turn it up!”

Clarissa glanced over her shoulder. “There's nothing playing, Priya.”

I twisted the wheel and kept my foot on the gas, pulling into the parking lot. “We're here.”

“Thank effing God,” Priya said, tossing her empty Red Bull can out the window.

“Priya! Wait for a garbage,” Lili said, getting out of the car and picking up the discarded aluminum from the ground. “You shouldn't litter.”

Priya fluffed her hair. “Your
mom
shouldn't litter.”

“Good one,” Clarissa said. “I love Your Mom jokes.” She grinned at Priya. “Or maybe I just love your actual mom.”

We all laughed and started walking toward the movie complex. I imagined how I would direct this scene in a movie—probably in slow motion, with closeups of our faces and then a pan out to the four of us walking side by side. An electric song would be playing in the background, and I would make sure the cinematographer spent a good amount of time focusing on each
of us—Lili, in her maroon curtain dress; Priya, in her slutty nun habit; Clarissa, in her royal evening wear, looking like the voluptuous baroness she was; and me, a young Julie Andrews, heavily doused in liquid concealer but perhaps the prettiest I'd ever looked.

Take
that
, Darcy McKibbon.

Lili gasped. “Okay, don't look now, Clarissa, but you-know-who is standing right outside buying his ticket.”

“Who?”

“Anderson,” said Lili. “And Ryan and Duncan. Oh, and Tiger.”

“Shit,” Clarissa said, grabbing my arm. “What are they
doing
here?”

Obviously, the exact same thing we were.

This is as good a time as any to give you a rundown of Anderson's friends.

Ryan Brauer: a tight end on the football team with short chestnut hair, a forgettable face, an overly thick neck, and an even thicker personality.

Duncan Correy: another football player. I can't remember his position, but Duncan is actually a cool guy.

Tiger: also—surprise!—on the football team. Tiger's real name is Jeremy; his last name is Lyon, which sounds like “lion,” and before I got to Bennington, someone started calling him Tiger for the goof. I have nothing more to say about that.

Anderson was definitely the leader of the pack, partly because he was the coolest of them, and partly, or even mainly, because he was the hottest.

“Do you want to leave?” asked Lili. “We could always just leave.”

“Or we could pretend like we don't know them and walk right by. I mean, we
are
in costume,” said Priya.

“You're wearing a black cocktail dress,” I reminded her. “It's not exactly a disguise.”

“Girls!” said Clarissa. “Let's not make this a bigger deal than it already is. Onward, shall we?”

Clarissa started walking with the sort of determination I'd come to know her for. “Hi, boys,” she said as we approached the front door.

Inside, I could see that the Roosevelt Multiplex was all decked out. The hills were alive, so to speak, with cardboard cutouts of mountains and flowers strewn about the lobby.

Clarissa blinked. “Nice night for a musical.”

“For sure,” Ryan said.

Tiger nodded in our general direction. “Wassup, bitches?”

Priya clucked her tongue. “Don't
ever
use that word when you're speaking to me, okay, Tiger?”

“My deepest apologies,” Tiger said, getting down on one knee and holding out his hand. He had on a Yankees cap (backward) and a shirt that said:
Don't hate me because I'm beautiful. Hate me because I f*cked your sister
. “Would you care to accompany me to this evening's queer-a-palooza—I mean, sing-along?”

Priya looked him up and down a few times. “You're not exactly dressed for the occasion,” she said, seeming disappointed. “Where's your costume?”

“Oh, here,” said Tiger, standing up. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gigantic cross, which looked more appropriate for a 50 Cent video than a Rodgers and Hammerstein musical. “How about now?”

“Much better,” Priya said, raising her own cross and clinking it with Tiger's. “We match.”

“I cannot believe what you two are wearing,” Lili said, pointing to Ryan and Duncan, who were in matching lederhosen and white dress shirts. “Where did you get those?”

“Lederhosen for Less,” Duncan joked. “It's right next to Abercrombie at the mall.”

“Be serious,” said Lili.

“You
be serious,” said Ryan.

“My older brother had them left over from when he used to go to this,” Duncan said, playing with his suspenders. He was wearing a tight green vest over his shirt and a tan belt. “Anderson has on a pair, too. He's getting the tickets.”

We stood there momentarily, waiting. Then Priya said, “I'm going with Tiger to get our tickets.” I reached into my purse to grab some money, but Priya
shushed
me. “It's on my dad,” she said, flashing an AmEx Black Card.